Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave and Anneliese walked toward Elenore’s large command tent in the early morning. Sophia had been reluctant to see them leave, but they’d persuaded her to rest more. As they walked, Argrave paused.

“Forget something?” Anneliese asked, knowing that look.

“The hand mirror,” Argrave said ponderously. “The bronze one. I’ve no idea where it is.”

Anneliese put a hand on her hip as she thought. “It may be a safe assumption to deem it lost, considering you’ve died twice and every building around us has been razed to the ground.”

“Yeah.” Argrave nodded thoughtfully.

“You hadn’t actually used that it in a very long time,” Anneliese reminded him. “You said it made you feel detached from the world around you.”

Argrave nodded in agreement. “It did, it’s just… maybe we could’ve discovered some mystery from it. Some truth.”

“Not every mystery is worth solving,” Anneliese said with complete conviction. “Not every answer will be satisfying. Sometimes, you won’t find any answer at all. Fortunately, there are a thousand other questions worth answering. You don’t need to focus on the impossible ones.” She gestured. “But you know that. It’s why you denied the Heralds.”

Argrave looked up at the sun rising. “Spent a lot of time asking ‘why’ when I was younger. That question invariably multiplies itself. The only thing that made me move on was changing the question. Not ‘why,’ but ‘why not?’”

“Why not?” Argrave smiled, following after her and passing into Elenore’s tent.

On the inside, disorganized pockets of important people had spread out everywhere. Upon their entrance, the atmosphere seemed to shift. All small talk ended, and they slowly made their way to the large table in the center of the room that’d been carved of stone.

There were countless groups represented here, each with their own interests. Ganbaatar, envoy of the elves from the Bloodwoods. Therapont, representative of the surviving dwarves fleeing Mundi. Artur, who’d gathered all surviving spellcasters of Vasquer beneath him. Durran, who stood for his people as much for their friendship. Lorena and her daughter—who did indeed look alarmingly like Anneliese, presently—represented the dragons, both those of the moon and the Gilderwatchers.

Each and all had their own sub-factions, their own individual cultures, viewpoints, and methodology. They had their own ambitions, desires, and needs. They had their own philosophy, most of which had insurmountable differences with those standing just next to them. Most here were leaders in their own right, but all were hesitant to step forward to the head of that table. They were all battered enough dealing with their own problems—to shoulder responsibility for all present seemed so difficult that their fear outweighed their ambition.

For two, though, it felt natural.

Argrave and Anneliese came to the head of the table, near in lockstep. Elenore quietly joined them, though made sure she got little attention compared to them.

“Alright,” Argrave called out, leaning up against the table. “Let’s convene the First Council of the Homeless. Hopefully, it’ll be the last.”

Some amusement cut the tension down in the room, but none were eager to speak first.

“The facts, as I understand them, are thus; most everything that’s been built up in our lifetime, and countless lifetimes before it, has crumbled. We’re standing in the ruins of what was once a proud city, encircled by mountains. Throughout Berendar, the damage is similar.” Argrave snapped his head to his sister. “Elenore?”

“This city of tents is growing larger day-by-day. We’ve gotten by with what little hunting and foraging is possible, but already that’s wearing thin.” Elenore placed her thin hands on the table. “We need organization. We need robust, centralized leadership—leadership that can act quickly and decisively, that can decide in a moment’s notice how we approach the difficult problems that crop up.”

Everyone here saw the necessity for that, agreeing with quiet nods.

“Those in this room are suitable figures,” Therapont, dwarven senator with a bushy beard, put forth. “Dwarven governance maintained the grand city of Mundi for countless years, colonizing the inner earth without issue. Using that same model, we could reclaim this continent for all people. A senate of many races.”

Some looked discontented, some intrigued.

“Dwarves succeeded governing other dwarves,” Galamon spoke up. “Here, now… could this disparate group of peoples act with both haste and justice? For a time, perhaps.” �

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“But not forever,” Anneliese agreed. “Before long, each of us would gain vested interests that causes stagnation, even rifts. I saw as much in Mundi, meaning no offense. Could humans act upon something that might benefit only elves, or vice versa? My experience tells me no.”

“If the situation wasn’t so chaotic, I’d aim for a council of sorts.” Ganbaatar looked at Argrave. “But we need decisive action.”

Therapont said firmly, “Argrave’s proven an effective leader during times of intense war. However, is his sort of mentality what we need going forth? I ask with only the best of intentions, mind.”

“I know.” Argrave nodded, holding his arms out. “It’s worth considering, but I’ll give my perspective. I’ve no great love for war. I think most of you can attest to the fact I search for a diplomatic solution wherever possible. Moreover… I’ve never had singular power.” He looked at Anneliese, then Elenore. “Anneliese has been as much of a leader as I have, if not more. Elenore is an administrator without peer.” He looked to other allies all around. “The good work and advice of others has been invaluable. I would continue in that fashion.”

“So, speaking bluntly…” Durran began, his arms crossed. “The choice is between a council of some sorts, or the royal three.” He gestured their way. “You might say that I’m a touch biased, but I think our present rulers have more than proven themselves. The idea of waiting for a council to decide things in these trying times make me somewhat wary. My people could die of thirst while you’re debating whether to let us drink.”

“To maintain stability, nothing is better than democracy,” Raven said. “But to rebuild from the ashes? To reclaim a ravaged continent before nature does? To check thousands of ambitions, working in tandem? We need a powerful government.”

All saw the merit in what Raven said.

“So… the Kingdom of Vasquer continues,” Melanie said glibly. “I’d be pleased if my fiefdom hadn’t been buried under mountains.”

“No,” Argrave said decisively. “Not the kingdom. The Blackgard Union continues. I don’t want to carry on the traditions of nobility, of class structures, of pointless divides between people. All of us are here, now, sleeping on shoddy bedrolls and walking on grass. All should be given equal opportunity to make their way in the world. We have the opportunity to build something from the ground up, and no one should be deprived of that right.”

“That way of life is all our people know,” Nikoletta spoke up. “Keep the title of king, at least. For a time.”

Argrave was a little opposed to the notion, but said nothing.

“Governments are not static things. It can, and should, be changed. There’s an opportunity to do both. Building the house is a much different task from living in it.” Anneliese gestured at Therapont. “We can build the framework for the transition from an absolute government to one that allows people their voice. And we can see it through.”

Artur laughed. “Sure, you can. The question always remains… will you? In ten, twenty, even a hundred years from now, when you’ve a dozen children running about, and they’re expecting children of their own… could you deprive them of what you built? Could you earnestly step aside?”

“We discussed doing so now,” Argrave said with some amusement. “Taking Sophia, going to some distant, beautiful place… letting the world sort itself out.” He smiled at Anneliese, who offered her hand. “But we know we can do this. And if the alternative is letting this place slide into chaos, we’d rather build a great nation.”

“They’re also essentially immortal, and could likely kill all of us,” Lorena cut in. “The fact they’re even asking is good enough for me.”n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

“On that cheery note… long live the king,” came an unenthusiastic cheer from Artur.

“Alright. To put it plainly, I’m proposing a triumvirate between myself, Anneliese, and Elenore—King, Queen, and Prime Minister.” Argrave looked between everyone. “Unless anyone has any alternative proposals they’d like to bring up.”

“There are a million others,” Raven said. “But I’m certain this one will work—and quickly. That’s what’s important.”

With that capstone, no objections were raised. Indeed, there was a sense of ease in the room, of certainty. The future of a hundred years seemed uncertain, but for now, all present knew they would be in good, proven hands.

“To what extent will we attempt to govern?” said Orion, breaking his long silence. “Shall our nation span the world?”

“Are you trying to kill me?” Elenore cut in. “Inevitably, they’re going to fob off administration on me. We can’t govern the world—not yet, at least. Nor should we. We’ve no presence anywhere besides here in Berendar and the Great Chu.”

“Then, those two alone?” Orion pressed. “I merely ask because I think it for the best.”

“The Great Chu has a long history of being shattered, only for its people to rebuild it back into the great empire it’s always been.” Argrave crossed his arms. “Of the world, I think they’ll be the best at rebuilding. It’s their culture. We should focus on resettling and governing Berendar alone.”

“Yet my people persist there,” Galamon said. “And Patriarch Dras expended no small effort to maintain his people at the expense of the natives, even amidst the calamity. His designs on their land will not end. The Veidimen remain tightly bound with us. I foresee issues.”

“I… don’t disagree,” Anneliese admitted. “Still, overextension could result in total fracture. We have justification, and we have the history in this continent. In the Great Chu, we were always on flimsy ground.”

Elenore nodded. “Until we’ve solid ground to stand upon, we shouldn’t look to solve the problems of the world. Even if we were able, I’m hesitant. Providing aid where it might be unwelcome could quickly devolve into something ugly for all parties.”

“For the immediate future, at least, we stick to Berendar,” Argrave ruled. “Where do we go from here?”

As more and more people began to speak, Argrave realized they had a long, long task ahead of them. The three years and change he’d spent here would be nothing compared to the long stretch that was coming. It would be plagued with difficult decisions, hard compromises, and unanswerable questions. The fact that they’d already begun was a source of great solace. At the end of the day, this was what living in this world meant.

Argrave was more than ready to go through the complicated endlessness of existence.